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her thoughts.
    Eddie’s mouth. Her lipsticked lips tightening around my glans with hungry tenderness, taking the sacrament of my vile meat deep inside her with benign acceptance. Tongue caressing my shaft, delineating my cock’s corona like a geographer quietly mapping new territory to be explored, invested.
    Eddie’s words.
    The way she would say ‘Jesus’ when I entered her and again and again on every stage on that road to orgasm, the word a holy or rather so wonderfully blasphemous punctuation of our frenzied sex.
    Eddie’s sounds.
    The moans. The sighs. The deep breaths. The times she would actually stop breathing between thrusts, anticipating the next surge of unadulterated lust or pleasure, in order to magnify its impact, diffuse its terrible, unforgiving waves throughout her whole senses.
    Eddie’s movements.
    The way she would adjust her position so that my hardness would dig even deeper.
    The desolating delicacy with which she would twirl some of the curls on my chest in a gesture of tenderness.
    The desperate longing in her eyes as we watched the waves of pleasure rise in our bodies as we fucked with animals and the silent way she would acquiesce to my finger invading her even more, crushing the last barrier of her intimacy.
    Eddie sleeping. Next to me, her breath shallow, her pale body almost like a corpse, her face at rest, the trace of a contented smile on her still moist lips. The silence, at last. The loneliness of being together. Stirrings again in my stomach and cock. The eternal circle of silence and sex where words were pointless and only bodies spoke the secret language of life.
    Head and heels in love, you see.
    Captive.
    Consumed.
    Of course, there were complications. The mechanics of adultery and work make for troubled companions, but then that’s no news for you guys. But we managed. We courted disaster on many occasions, took risks, lied a lot, but we were healthy, greedy for more and more sex, and we managed. Breakfast fucks, lunchtime assignments, evening trysts.
    Curiously enough, my first indication of future problems in our fevered relationship also had political connotations.
    I think we’d been lovers for nearly two months. In rooms, on beds, on floors, wherever we fell onto each other, we never did speak much. It was more motion and deep, significant silences, meaningful looks and all that. But there were also times we acted like normal human beings, went to see a movie together, had a drink in a bar. Eddie suddenly asked me who I usually voted for. She appeared quite concerned. Explained that she’d somehow never gotten round to asking me. My inner radar quickly spotted an obstacle so I fudged my answer. Turned out she was a fervent Labour supporter. Had been since university. But then most intellectuals are. Was actually a volunteer canvasser for her local area. And it had just occurred to her that she might be fucking someone who supported a different political party. All of a sudden, this worried her.
    I’d never been a political animal and my voting decisions swayed all over the place depending on my mood and whichever party had committed the latest political gaffes. More often than not, I had voted for the party which had no chance of winning; a mischievous streak inside me had always felt doing that was both honourable and a way of defying public opinion. Not a man of deep social convictions, you see. What I didn’t tell her was that at the previous elections I had actually voted Tory. It’s just that the national Labour candidate simply got on my nerves! No way I was going to throw a spanner in the path of our burgeoning affair. I lied. Implied that I shared Eddie’s political leanings.
    I’m not sure she believed me fully, but the subject was never raised again. Maybe, like me, she had come to the conclusion that the sex was just too good and that principles would have to take a back seat.
    By now, I knew the affair with